


Out of Sight, Not Out Of Mind

by madforscamander



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, angsty, but it has a happy ending, soft, yet again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 05:14:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15678741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madforscamander/pseuds/madforscamander
Summary: Remus has been gone for four days, yet no one seems to be concerned.  Being madly in love with him makes you approach the situation in a slightly different manner.Or, the one where you find out about Remus’ furry little problem.





	Out of Sight, Not Out Of Mind

The Hogwarts Library, with its arched windows and golden-trimmed books, had an indescribable and unfailing ability to suck you into it. It emitted some sort of silent Siren call, luring, until you were there for hours and the sun was setting and you hadn’t even realized your day was gone. But, for the past few, you had been able to resist the magnetic pull of it. It overflowed with the ghost of Remus, of his smile, the way he bit his lip, and you feared once you entered you might never find your way out still sane. 

Remus had been missing for four days now, 96 hours of restlessness and searching through corridors and skipping meals and barely sleeping. Your hair was untamed, dark circles as permanent as tattoos smeared under your eyes, skin becoming a ghastly shade of white. Pages of barely-written-on parchment filled your room, which were parts of uncharacteristically late essays you had no intention of completing. This caused multiple teachers to come up to you throughout the days, asking if you were alright, and every time you were about to tell them Remus had just vanished, Sirius or James or Peter was there, making up a lie about a sick relative or how your Muggle pet just died.

“Why won’t you tell anyone Remus is missing?” you hissed at Sirius as he pulled you away from a concerned McGonagall. He hurriedly escorted you through her now-empty classroom, and you couldn’t help gazing over at Remus’ seat, behind yours. 

He kept looking around like he was looking for someone, but there was not a soul to be found in the corridor except for the two of you. “Don’t worry, it’s fine.” 

Though Sirius’ delivery was breathless, it was too casual, leaving you to fling your arm out of his failing grip to face him. “He’s your best friend, Sirius! Your best friend has been missing for four days and that’s all you have to say about it?” You grabbed the front of his robes for good measure, haphazardly grasping onto the fabric, trying to destabilize him yet needing something to keep you grounded. 

With some uncanny audacity he shoved your hands off of him. “I’m more concerned about you. We all are. James said you haven’t eaten in days and,”–you went to open your mouth and say something in protest, something you didn't quite have planned, but Sirius didn’t let you–“Nope, don’t try and argue this, Y/N. Peter is waiting in the kitchens now and you are eating.” 

It was as though some part of you needed the reminder to keep yourself afloat, as his demand caused you to into Sirius’ chest, breathing in harsh unevenness. “I’m so scared. Is it really fine?” His hands wrapped around you, chin resting atop your head, and you wished it made you feel as safe as usual, like you were untouchable.

His words, however, did the trick: “I promise.” 

It must have taken some act of God for Sirius to lug your weakened body all the way to the kitchens, but he did it without a complaint, just small grunts down staircases and a few hushed swears. Peter was chatting with some house elves when you arrived, a massive plate of food and jug of Pumpkin Juice covering his leaned-down face slightly. But nothing could hide the harsh worry that cut through the usual warmth of his features as you walked through the kitchen, all of your weight in Sirius’ arms, finally appearing as helpless as you had felt. He fed you slowly, reassuring Remus’ state with the same obnoxious vagueness as Sirius had. And you knew from that repetition of ambiguity this was no secret of theirs, but one of Remus’, one that he had begged for them to keep come hell or high water. Come a teenage girl helplessly in love with Remus nearly destroying herself to try and make sure he was alright. So your anger was reorganized, no longer being directed at the secret keepers, but at the creator. 

“Hey, everyone knows you haven't been right,” Peter mentioned while placing another heaping scoop of potatoes on your plate. “You should skip the next lesson, get some sleep. We’ll talk to Flitwick.” 

Sirius nodded while swallowing a bite of a roll, one you felt as though he did not have the right to be eating by glares of passing house elves. “Use our room so we can come check up on you,” he added. 

You only parted from them when absolutely necessary, when the bell for next period rang, and you made your way to Gryffindor Tower with an apparent heaviness in each step upon stone, staircase, and slates of hardwood. It took every ounce of strength and an embarrassingly long amount of time, but finally you stood in the threshold of their room, staring in, like countless times before. Four empty beds. One of you. It could have been a difficult decision, but it wasn’t; you slipped between the sheets on Remus’ bed like you were born to be there alongside him. You fell asleep imagining his skin all over yours, wishing your anger could control your meaningless adoration if only slightly. 

It was a loud smash, something that could have been breaking glass, and a scream of “fuck” that woke you up. Remus’ name automatically slipped through your lips, somewhere between a question and a prayer, and you were disappointed yet relieved to be wrong. It was James who stood a few feet away, platter of food in his hands, cup of Pumpkin Juice on the floor, smiling at you like a child afraid of being caught. 

“Jamie,” you breathed, the smallest of smiles melting onto your face. Realizing you were not angry, he mirrored your expression, hopping over the cup and puddle to reach you. 

“You don’t have to eat more right now,” he said so faintly, you almost did not believe it was James who was speaking. “It’s just in case.” To emphasize his point, he put the food tray on Remus’ bedside table before leaning down to kiss your forehead with a whisper-like tenderness. You fell asleep envisioning it was Remus’ lips that had just kissed you, and that they continued down to your lips, softly, slowly. 

So maybe it should have been obvious, assuming he was the only Marauder left, when Remus emerged out of the nowhere he had disappeared into four days earlier. But of course it wasn’t, as you were the only one who didn’t know where he went and why and that he’d ever be back. You just had to trust. 

He didn’t want to wake you, or, at least, that’s what the near-silent shutting of the door suggested. But no amount of warm food and dream-filled sleep could overpower the constant anxiety rushing through you, the anxiety that made your eyes open at the slightest of sounds and turn to face the door–you had rolled around while sleeping–with the gracelessness of a tornado. 

And there he was. Beautiful brown curls, long neck, freckled cheeks, tall frame. Standing like nothing had happened, but smiling in a way that suggested otherwise. Like he was already begging for forgiveness without saying a word. He approached you, optimism seeping from his skin, as if expecting he would get to say what he wanted to and get away with the crime sans punishment. As if. 

You could tell by his opening jaw he did not expect you to get up in a flash so fast and aggressive it resembled lightning. Suddenly, you were the one approaching him, with an intensity so overwhelming he was walking backwards to try and save himself from it. 

But you caught him, caught him with your fingers around his muddy jumper, grasping it so tightly your knuckles were as white as the fabric used to be. He kept pulling, you kept pushing, he kept struggling, you kept holding him down, until his back hit the wall and you had him, you finally had him where you wanted him. 

“Where the fuck have you been, Remus?” It should have been angrier, the delivery, should have matched the way your blood was basically lava in your body, scorching hot from frustration. But it was breathless because you were touching him and in love with him and more worried than angry, even if you wished it to be the other way around. 

He gulped, and you were eye-level with the newfound length of his neck, and your hands twitched in desperation to feel that skin. But that throat never opened to answer after swallowing, leaving your demeanor unchanged. 

Finally, some madness surfaced, as you demanded for an answer. “The other three wouldn’t tell me,” you informed, “so obviously, it’s you that’s making them keep it from me.” 

Remus’ hands wrapped around your wrists which still clutched at his jumper and you should have cared that he was touching you, but his excuses were too angering to ignore. “I can’t tell you,” “it’s too complicated,” “you don’t want to be a part of this.” You wished there was no wall behind his back so you could push him onto the ground harshly. 

“Who are you to tell me what I do and don’t want to know,” you spat. 

His eyes drifted, and part of you was irritated at his inability to just look at you, acknowledge the mess he had created, and the other part was irritated that you couldn’t see his eyes after four days of not staring at their warm brown shade, losing yourself in them completely. “Fine,” he replied. “I just didn’t want to tell you. Does that make you feel better?” 

Shaken by the unusual iciness of his words, you stepped back. With distance came the ability to inspect the body you had memorized, so knew that scratch beneath his left ear was new, as was that scar right by his lip. Wherever he had been, whatever he was doing, it did not treat him well in the slightest. 

Your lips pursed, eyebrows drawing together. “You got hurt,” you said, almost like you were trying to make yourself believe it. Though Remus’ skin was a constellation of scars since you met, he never seemed like someone who could actually bleed and wither down. There was something indestructible about the way he existed, so seeing fresh wounds sent shivers down your spine. “How?”

“I already told you, Y/N, I’m not going to discuss it.” It was stern and cold and you just wanted to miss him already, hold him and never let him leave, but couldn’t handle not being able to know the source of his injuries. Couldn’t handle Remus keeping something like that from you.

So you kept screaming. “So, you think it’s fair, then, to not tell me why I was worried out of my mind these past few days? Why I haven’t been able to sleep or eat out of worry? Why I abandoned my homework and skipped classes because I was withering under stress? Why I searched every inch of this castle hoping to find you?” 

“I didn't ask you to care about me.” 

Your heart was screeching in your chest, twisting and turning, being squeezed by his words and you were crying, suddenly. You couldn’t help the teardrops, but found yourself wishing they didn’t blur your vision, so you could see him still. Still so wrapped up on him, what would it take to break free of his grasp on your quivering heartbeat? 

Your words were stuttered but certain. “Well, too bad, Remus,” you choked out, “because I care about you a fucking lot. More than I thought I could care about anyone.” 

Finally, finally something broke inside of him, and you could see the shift through the blurred shapes of his body as his hand rode to the back of his neck and his head tilted forwards. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Then Remus’ hands were everywhere, gesturing wildly, and all you saw were the echoes of the movements. “You just really can’t know. I promise you, I wouldn’t keep something from you if it wasn’t serious.” 

“Then why do the boys get to know?” It was a pathetically honest moment of jealousy, not made better by your incesant sniffling. 

With some unnecessary snarkiness, Remus chuckled. “Because those gits are stuck with me for life. You, on the other hand, can leave whenever, and would right after I told you why I was gone.” 

You shook your head at him. “Why do you keep thinking I’m going to leave?” 

“Because you will!” he insisted with a relentless uncertainty that made your body shake. 

“I’m not going to.” 

“You should.” 

“But I won’t.” It came out through your clenched teeth. 

“I’d make you.” 

Your hands flew rapidly in unceremonious desperation. “Why are you so incessant on making us separate?” 

“Why are you so incessant on making us not?” 

“Why?” There was a sinister mockery heavy in your tone of voice that felt strange coming out of your mouth, put resonated your feelings flawlessly. “Maybe because it’s a stupid thing to end a friendship over? Or after knowing you for five years I deserve more? Or you shouldn’t be able to get away with this kind of behavior? Or I’m in love with you and wouldn’t want to leave no matter what you tell me, ever?” 

You were embarrassed but didn’t have time to be, because suddenly Remus’ mouth was on yours, kissing you into absolute oblivion. Just kissing, kissing. Kissing as if he needed it to survive, in that way people gasp for air after putting their heads underwater. As if you were that oxygen and he had been submerged for hours. Just kissing like he couldn’t get enough. And you couldn’t, either. Because he tasted like the bloody wounds you wanted to rid him of, and maybe if you kept letting him kiss you and he kept letting you kissing him back, just maybe your lips would heal that scar right by his, alleviate him from every pain and make him as indestructible as he was supposed to be.

With your fingers in his hair and his hands on your waist, pressing and pressing and pressing, your legs never felt as dangerously weightless. You stumbled into him and he stumbled into the wall, and you could have fallen right back onto his now-purple lips if it wasn’t for his hands on your shoulders, restricting you. 

His voice was deeper now, in the way oceans can drop off from shallow to bottomless with no warning, and it sucked you in with a similarly overwhelming force. “I’m a werewolf. I leave for four days during the full moon once a month during my transformations. The blokes are ananigmai, which is why they can know. Do you still love me now?” 

It was rushed and breathless and you loved seeing that your lips could do this, but knew by the doubt clouding over his darkened eyes it was about so much more than kissing. Knew by the way he looked at you like you were an entire world wrapped up into one person that he didn’t want to lose you in the same way you didn’t want to lose him. 

And you let your fingers wander, soaking in the sight of him once more, letting fingertips brush upon the part of his collarbone his sweater didn’t cover, the sliver of chest out in the open, the length of his neck you had been aching to feel for God knows how long. And in that exploration, you touched so many scars, some of them thick, some short, some circular, some cutting at harsh angles, realizing they came from his claws, scaring you not because of the strangeness or violence but the thought of Remus hurting himself. 

You stepped into him, hoping his elbows would bend and allow you to press your bodies together. They did, and it was so glorious to be so close to him again, you wondered how you had survived so long without the feeling of it, the warmth, the safety. His eyes were filled with a hope yours had known for years. You fulfilled their desires by whispering, so close to his mouth it could have been sultry as opposed to intimate, “of course I do.” 

And, this time, you kissed Remus first.


End file.
